


A Pianist Walks Out of A Bar

by Philosophizes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bachelor Party, Background appearances by other characters, Comedy, Gen, Humorous Drunkenness, Lots of sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophizes/pseuds/Philosophizes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Gilbert's bachelor party, and Roderich is only there because he is a <i>very</i> accommodating and understanding man who understands there are certain duties that come with being a friend.</p><p>(But that doesn't mean the soon-to-be-groom should have been allowed to get drunk)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pianist Walks Out of A Bar

Roderich loathed the very _concept_ of bachelor parties, but he understood that there were some things friends did for each other, even if he was _definitely_ going to get photographic evidence of the night and send copies off to Yekateryna, in the vague hope that maybe she’d reconsider her actions and get Gilbert to shape up a bit more.

It definitely wasn’t classy to hold the bachelor party at the same bar they all worked at, or had worked at, but on the other hand he was _entirely_ in favor of frugality, and you could do worse than host the bar at your almost-wife’s brother’s establishment and invite him along.

Roderich was plunking despondently at one of the middle-range keys on his bar piano, providing a monotone background to the happy chatter at the bar that was getting progressively more alcohol-enhanced, when Gilbert sat down on the stool next to him and made a truly _horrid_ noise by plunking his elbows on the keyboard.

“Stop that,” Roderich mumbled, trying to shove him away, but he’d had just enough alcohol that his aim was terrible. His hand skimmed off Gilbert’s chest and he nearly toppled over onto the other man.

“It’s your turn,” Gilbert said seriously.

“Be nice to my baby,” Roderich insisted, hauling the nearest elbow off the keys.

“Timo and Basch finally owned up to having Special Ops training, Ludwig went to talk to that puppy guy, and Ivan cried about his angry hamster,” Gilbert continued. “ _You have to.”_

“Get your beer away from the keyboard.”

“You’re always so fancy, you have to know _every_ fur-foru- expensive clothes guys place thing in the whole city, so _prove it._ Bet you if you go into Maga’s they’ll know you.”

“Gilbert,” Roderich said. “You _know_ I’ve never been in Maga’s. They’re too expensive.”

Gilbert, with a deliberation that would have been called exaggerated if he hadn’t been inebriated and actually needed to concentrate that hard to do it, poked him in the chest.

 _“You,”_ he proclaimed. “ _You_ are sitting on _piles_ of money. You hide it under your bed!”

“Oh my God,” Roderich said to himself. “My _tips,_ I keep my _tips_ in the box under my bed until there’s enough to be worth making a bank deposit.”

“And you’re magical, so you get a lot of tips. _Money hoarder._ ”

Roderich took a picture on of him on his phone and texted it to Yekateryna.

“What was that?” Gilbert asked suspiciously.

“A reminder of the night,” Roderich said dryly, and the tone went completely over Gilbert’s drunk head.

Gilbert nodded sagely.

“Good idea. Never know when the peanuts will steal your brain. Maga’s, _go._ ”

A look around the bar proved that there was no one who would come to his rescue. Ludwig, who as the bartender was in charge of moderation, was indeed absent- and Gilbert might be a strange drunk but he was an honest one, so if some of his own mixes had fuzzed out the edges of his anxiety enough for him to _actually_ walk across the road and talk to the man in the puppy-rescue shelter, Roderich really couldn’t begrudge him that.

Ivan was slumped over the bar in a way entirely unbecoming of the man who employed nearly all of them, bemoaning his latest rodent demon of a hamster. Alfred was draped across his shoulders, apparently trying to offer brotherly comfort through badly-rendered bluegrass. Timo and Basch had used all the darts and were throwing cutlery at the dartboard with worryingly-fixated expressions and terrifying precision.

They definitely weren’t drunk, but they definitely wouldn’t step in, either. Both of them liked messing with people too much.

“Will it make you happy?” Roderich asked resignedly, and Gilbert nodded enthusiastically, smile splitting his face.

“You are _awesome,_ ” he said, hauling him towards the front door. “You are the _bestest_ best friend _ever._ ”

“I am _so thrilled_ ,” Roderich muttered, and Gilbert shoved him out the door in what was probably supposed to be a friendly manner, and leaned against the doorframe of the bar.

“Go on,” he said.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Gilbert looked at him like he was crazy.

“Roderich, _it’s dark._ _There are moose._ ”

“And yet you’re letting me outside?” Roderich asked. “Never mind, fine, I’m going.”

He walked down the street to the corner and crossed, looking back every so often to make sure Gilbert had keeled over unconscious or run out into traffic or something.

The lights in Maga’s were on low, but there was no sign that actually _said_ the store was closed. Roderich knocked politely, just to make sure.

A woman in the well-tailored black and butter-yellow uniform of the store opened the glass door.

“Yes?”

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you miss,” Roderich said. “But it’s my friend’s bachelor party and he _insists_ that I’m personally known to every single menswear store in the city, and I’m proving him wrong. If you could gently evict me from the premises as though you assume I’m a vagabond or some such, it would be greatly appreciated.”

The woman stared at him a moment before breaking out in a grin.

“You are _way_ too funny to kick out,” she said, and dragged him into the store. From down the street, they could _just_ hear Gilbert yell _“YOU BEAUTIFUL LYING DRAGON RODERICH”_.

They both stood just inside the doorway for a moment, waiting to see if there would be more.

“So I’m Elizaveta,” the woman said after a moment, and held out her hand.

 _“Roderich,”_ he said, trying not to sound embarrassed and exasperated as he shook it.

“Why did your friend call you a dragon?”

“He insists that I hoard all my savings in my room and sleep on top of them.”

“Well, do you?” she asked.

He smiled slightly.

“Only all the gold watches the generous patrons of the dive bar down the road leave in my tip jar. They’re so hard to cash, you see, and the jewelers started getting suspicious.”

Elizaveta laughed and laughed and laughed.


End file.
